A story to break the heart

They said our mind operates in two ways when it comes to situations, its either we fight or take flight. But she couldnt choose.
The whole world seem to explode so slowly for dear Anabeth.
The moon played hide and seek with the clouds and the owls hooted the symphonies that haunted the living.
Nothing unusual really.
Nothing except for an empty bottle of tequila and a vial of undrunk poison on the bedside table.
So begins the game of life and death on the very bed where Anabeth lies awake- cold and shattered and breathing.
The mechanics were simple. Drink the poison and death wins. Or sleep for the night and life wins a little. But either way Anabeth loses.
As death gambles for life, Anabeth stares at the ceiling and the ceiling stares back. Slowly the ticking clock releases tension, creating this nostalgia of yesterday. It all came back to Anabeth…

Anabeth was only 5 when she saw the petrified body of her mother being lowered down to be forever buried.
No one knew this. No one knew why Anabeth cried by the lemon tree.

Anabeth never knew her father, and up until now she wonders if such a man even deserves to be called a father.. She lives with her aunt Lysa and comes home to his drunk and wasted uncle George who slept with a different woman every night. But Aunt Lysa loved him anyway.

And by chance, Anabeth thought maybe forgiveness was the answer. And maybe if she could just summon every fiber of her body to walk up to her father’s door, she would be a little happier. So she did try. Knocked once, twice….

And to her surprise, the door opened… with such slowness that it rose the suspense through the roof.
“Hello?” says the man who left her 16 years ago…the man who promised his life to her dead mother. The man who couldve saved her but didnt. The man that in every way was also her.
He was many things to Anabeth but when the sun set on that day…all he was then, is now the man who closed the door.
It hurt like hell.

So what’s left to fight for?
Live for love?
…when all she ever knew was rejection and pain?
Live for family?
….when she doesnt even have a real one?
Live for friends?
….you mean the ones who laughed at her and bullied her?
Live for herself?
…She was empty. Every beat of the heart and every breath of the lungs was a twisting dagger to her soul.
She had nothing.
She was broken…in every way a person can be broken. And nothing can ever fill the open fractures life has done to Anabeth. She ran out of fight. And flight was nowhere. There was no escape. So it happened.
It’s 5:58 a.m. and the winner is…

She was my home.

She died too soon. One day, I heard her voice. I saw her walking on the streets. I followed her. The woman turned. Then I realized, I never met her. I never knew my mother.

One day, I slept in the streets, abandoned and motherless. Alone. The cardboard I slept on smelled like her. And the moon looked like her eyes. But I never even saw her. 

One day, I tried to draw her only to see a picture of myself in crayon and pencil. I believed so much that she exists. But I never met her.

But then again, I was once a part of her. A part that will never fade away. A story that will never fail to remind me that I had a mother who died for me. She was my home. And now I am homeless.